Entry 003 The Metracal for Lunch Bunch

I am pushing off on Phase 2 (the Cruise Diet) of my reduction ramble with Doc Dukan.  Reached 12.5% of my goal. But lets go back to Phase 1, the Attack. All 9 days were completed in hell-breaking-loose mode . It reminds me of traveling to Paris last summer. Rushing, going through the stupid FTA hoops, feeling ridiculous without my belt, in my socks, squished in child-sized airline seat, the seat belt adjusted to its fullest length.  All I want is to wash my face. And my teeth are feeling as if they are wearing little sweaters. My tired and frustrated mode is not because of the new eating regime alone. No, life has been hectic. After a silent summer the catering volcano is active again.

The catering van has gone from zero, and I mean dead zero to a rumbling 80 miles an hour. AYLI is speeding again. While texting. And flossing. Its been a great time to jettison some non-needed weight. But during this DEFCON 3 mode, eating is usually just grab and go. Whatever comes close is grabbed and goes in the pie hole.
So how did it go? Well, I had to get outfitted for this change. My eating habits go awry when I don't have plenny good food hanging low so I can grab it quick. These hungry moments are when I reach for what ever is within paw's reach. In the catering kitchen, this translates to a lot of choices. I already gave you a glimpse of the trouble I can find at work. At home, I am wizard out of making trouble out of thin air.  Lets see, what's in the larder? Here you go. a little maple syrup, some oatmeal from the Quaker's round box, some butter, shoot it in the oven and I have a gob of hot crisp. Without the fruit.
Clearly I needed to get in battle mode before I started this change of behavior around food.   The first thing I did was go to my favorite big box, Costco.

(Sorry there Waltons, ye sons and daughters of Sam.)
Costco has the kind of meat department I need for the Dukan Diet.  Is it the best meat money can buy? No sir. But is it just fine? You betcha, plus reasonable. Wild sockeye, wild scallops, shrimp, tenderloin of beef, sliced turkey, sliced deli ham, sirloin of beef, all in huge packages. I put it on the front of my truck home like bagged game and tote it back to my cave.

I plop it on my counter, dust off the air-sucking Seal-a Meal and portion and freeze everything. The whole thing takes about 3 hours. I watch "Silence of the Lambs." Just kidding. I am actually watching random Hitchcock's movies. So it was somewhere around "Spellbound."
Now that  I have my arsenal of protein, I track down the very important oat bran (taking the Doc's word for it. I mean, just 1.5 tablespoons a day? Really?  I spill more than that.)

I make a gallon of iced tea at home and 3 gallons at work. Try the Paradise Brand. Tropical Flavor. No sugar. Nice. We buy it by the case for work and each bag makes a gallon. You can tweak the strength with ice or more water.
I plan a supply line for work to feed the Army of Me and make sure I have something thawing or already marinating every day. Plan ahead or you get caught with naught.

I like routine in the morning. I don't want to make any decisions. Just follow the same trail. Otherwise, I get lost puttering. If I ever retire, I should like to spend the entire day puttering. It suits me to just wander around engaging myself with whatever I happen to look at. My co-workers call this ADD. So my new routine includes making a faux latte with skinny milk, a shot of sugar-free vanilla and some strong coffee. I get all the foam I need with my whisk.

Then I dump my 1.5 tablespoons of oatbran into water, season it with s+p and crack open a 3 minute egg and dump it in too.  It has been years since I have eaten a soft boiled egg. Surprisingly good. I tend to like all food a tad underdone, so I love a runny egg.
Then Luc, the catering poodle and I take off for a 20 minute romp. My neighbor has 15 acres of trails and paths through untouched woods so all I have to do is step out my front door.  Now here I notice I am starting to lie so I want to regain my integrity. It is my intention to do this every day. I really want to and always enjoy it once in gear, even though half the trip is an uphill climb. But I am genetically sedentary, so my brain tries to thwart and negotiate me out of this plan every day. Lets say, I am good 4 days out of the 7. I confess to not having the exercise part of this new plan down yet. But since I am now exposing myself to you, I know I will have to do better.  Luc, an athlete and definitely not sedentary, goes on his morning walkabout with or with out me. We joyfully live on a 40 acre development with only 6 houses and no fences, so he likes to visit his buddies. There are 12 dogs between us. Luc is the only one not confined to home but he never goes beyond the boundaries of our development.
During the 9 days of the Attack Phase we were ball to the walls (a phrase that comes from cannonballs on ships rolling around during sea battles if not bolted down) but I had a few moments of insight.
One evening we were at a client's house doing a cocktail party. They had just built out a new outdoor living space complete with heaters in the ceiling, huge stone fireplace with a ginourmous flat screen TV mounted over the mantle, complete kitchen and seating for at least 25. We were in the 3 car garage staging the food. There were beautiful Vietnamese fresh rolls, warm and cheesy leek and onion tartlets, roast duck and fig salad in phyllo cups with warm gorgonzola, seared tuna on a wonton crisp and more. There were at least 6 or 7 times when I actually started to reach out and grab one of these goodies. Without thinking about it. I realized how often I do this. Without thinking about it. I mean, I did not get to be at my champion weight because I use restraint, right? Very illuminating. And when I get home from one of these jobs I usually fix dinner. I've actually already had dinner on the go, but for some reason it did not register with my pea brain. I had an aunt on my father's side, a spinster that had spent her whole life caring for her siblings, her parents and nephews and nieces. Aunt Rita was a hefty gal that spoke with a Québécois accented English. She lived in the house my grandfather had built to raise his family and I can remember her rocking me as a young child. Slightly clammy, always in one of those house dress duster things that went over her slip and baggy nylons rolled down to her ankles.
Once she was in "lose weight" mode and was using a Sixties Diet drink called Metracal. (before SlimFast) http://www.foodreference.com/frvideos/html/129-16-oldtv-metra.html So instead of substituting the drink for a meal she would gag it down then say, "now I can have my porkchops."   Bless you Tante Rita. Ahh, it comes down the family line.